Masks
by Lorena Soul
Summary: Christine is gone and Erik sulks until a young woman enters the Opera...a young woman with a mask...and a dark secret...
1. The Stranger

It was merely chance that he should be where he was at that time. Erik had come up from his long hibernation after Christine's flight. The mob had come and gone and since then he had remained below in hiding. No doubt everyone thought him dead. All the better he had thought until his restlessness had gotten the better of him and finally overpowered the pain he felt for the loss of his love.

As he watched the cloaked and hooded figure enter his opera house he knew he had been right in following his instinct to protect his first love, the opera in which he lived. He watched the shadow slink across the polished floor towards the inner sanctum of his world.

Who was this intruder and was he a threat? His eyes followed the figure who, as they thought it safe, lowered their hood as though to see better in the dim light. Something tensed in the air and the stranger turned to look seemingly straight at Erik.

It was a girl; she wore a pearly white mask that covered her entire face except for a square for her chin and mouth. It was exceptionally detailed, even going so far as to have raised lines to suggest eyebrows in an expression of complete inhuman calm. It was the eyes, deep dark almond brown eyes, that gave it away, the fear. As she raised a hand to sweep away an arrant strand of black-brown hair out of her face, Erik first noticed the blood. She was covered in it and he wondered how he had not noticed before that her deep red dress was in fact a blue thing covered in blood.

She was shaking.

Certain that there was in fact no one in the shadows where Erik currently stood, she turned and continued on. Erik followed and as he did so he was surprised as he realized that he was headed straight down to his own lair. Perhaps he should just kill her now and get it over with. After all he needed to keep his presence in the opera a secret if he wanted to continue his wretched existence there.

Of course there was the matter of disposing of the body, and he felt he did not have the heart to. He would much rather return to his house on the lake to die in peace. Perhaps if he asked, she would just leave. So with a sigh for the first time since She had left, Erik spoke.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle, but-"

The next thing he knew the girl had him pinned against the wall with a small knife at his throat.

"How long have you been following me.? Where are the rest of you?" She turned her head toward the dark hallway. "Don't come any closer or I'll kill him too."

Erik sighed. "There is no one else here, can you not see that. I-"

"Quiet." She hissed. The girl took another panicked look down the hallway and Erik moved swiftly and gracefully to twist the knife out of her wrist, wrap his arm around her neck and place the tip perilously close to her throat.

"Now," he growled, digging the point of the blade into her flesh so that a tiny trickle of blood flowed down her throat. He had lost all patience. "I was wondering _mademoiselle_, if I might ask you to kindly leave."

"I can't." She had begun to cry, not sobbing but letting tears stream down her face to collect under her mask.

"And may I ask why you cannot leave?" He struggled to keep her restrained as she fought to get away.

"They are after me. I've killed a man and- well it doesn't matter now. Kill me or turn me in to the proper authorities, monsieur, though I daresay one is just the same as the other. Please let me go and give me a chance to survive."

"How?"

"I've heard a story, of a ghost who once lived below the opera. They say the story is just a tale but that there really does exist a sanctuary down beneath this place. I was going to hide there until I thought it was safe."

Erik thought of his home beneath the ground, he imagined this girl finding it and turning him in to the management or worse the police. Murderer or no, they would be lenient thanks to his capture and demise. And if he killed her? Could he bare taking another life, and this time the life of an innocent young girl. Well almost innocent. She had admitted to killing a man, perhaps he should just serve justice and slit her throat here.

"Well?" her voice shook a little. "what is you decision monsieur. Will you throw me to the wolves or will you let me pass."

Somehow he felt somewhat of an ogre all of a sudden.

"Stop crying." He threw her away from himself in disgust. She stumbled but managed not to fall. "Follow me."

He led her down through the underground till they reached the lake, the edge of his world. He pointed to the boat. "Get in."

They moved across the lake in silence, Erik watched the girl as she tried to examine her surroundings. He wondered how well he could see in the dark.

So he had spared her in a way. There was really nothing else to be done. His soul could not survive another murder, he was pretty sure he was damned anyway. Why would god want a monster in heaven? He was much better suited to burn in hell. She would be his prisoner, but not a distraction from his loss. Perhaps it was the mask that had changed his mind. She still wore it even as she absent mindedly let her fingers trail in the water. The blood must have been fairly fresh for it washed off and left a red trail in the water as they passed. Why should she wear a mask?

"I didn't know there was a lake here." she said breaking the silence Erik had found so comfortable only a second before.

"Few people do save those who need to." he said shortly. "I suppose it would seem vulgar to have such a wretched place associated with the most esteemed opera in the world."

"I think its beautiful." she spoke softly as though she were tired. "I've never been in a boat before."

He continued poling them through the water slowly but surely as was his habit every time he crossed his lake. He enjoyed being on the water in the dark. It made him feel alone, blessedly alone, as though he were the only one in the world and that was all he needed. He knew of course that this was not so, and as soon as he reached the shore he would long for that thing that had eluded him all his life.

Finally they reached the opposite side and Erik tied off the boat as the girl stood patiently behind him.

"Thank you"

"For what?" he said without turning around.

"For letting me stay with you, monsieur phantom." She was smarter that he had thought.

"Your not exactly a welcome guest, _mademoiselle_, but I couldn't very well have you turning _me _in if I let you go could I?"

He led her into the house lighting a few candles as he went; illuminating his ransacked house and what was left of his ravaged belongings. He disappeared into his room and returned with a spare kimono and handed it to her. "You may change there," he said pointing to Christine's room, for it was still her room, "but don't touch anything."

He was building a fire in his fireplace when she emerged dressed in his kimono, her dress bundled in her hands, her mask still in place. Somehow dressed in his black silk kimono she seemed even more mysterious.

"How am I supposed to clean my dress?"

Erik shrugged and sat in his chair in front of the crackling "Wash it in the lake for all I care."

"You don't have to be so rude" She walked out his front door and he watched as, to his surprise, she knelt down on the graveled shore and began to wash her dress like a peasant laundry woman.

She slept on the floor in front of his fireplace. She should be thankful he thought, it was better than the street and safer too. Anyway he was not about to let her sleep in Christine's room. No one would sleep in that room ever again. Erik sat watching her sleep in the dim light of the one remaining candle, all the others had burned out. Well, at least she was cleaner than she had been. If there was one thing he could not stand it was a dirty child. She had tried to speak to him again and he had answered. Harshly at first then more gently as he began to actually engage in conversation with her. A scary thought when he had come to consider it. The last thing he wanted was a companion, a friend. He had all the friends he needed; Loneliness, Apathy and Despair. And who could ask for better acquaintances? Loyal to a fault, they would always be with him. They were with him now, and he brooded late into the night, sitting in his chair until the last candle had snuffed out.


	2. Names

It had been a week since she had come to his house by the lake. Never in his life had Erik met anyone with such joy for life, such a disregard for his obvious depression; he hated it. It was a wonder she had ever killed someone, she didn't seem the type. She did the strangest things.

One evening as he sat in his room deep in thought, the lake alarm went off and when he had gone to see who was on it, he had found the girl swimming in the water. At first he had thought she was trying to escape, but as he went to untie the boat he noticed that she wasn't really going anywhere, in stead she seemed to be swimming back and forth close to the shore. She was swimming for recreation. He stared puzzled, wondering if he ought to go back inside or watch her just to make sure she didn't get away. "I'm not going anywhere, monsieur phantom. I just needed something to do, you may return inside to sulk." He had not liked it that she should speak to him in this way, but it was just so amusing to see her playing in the water like a child that he ignored her insult. As long as she stayed to herself, what did he care? Once he had woken up from a nap in his chair to find a pair of almond eyes staring at him with awe from only a foot away.

"You're awake. You scared me. You sleep like the dead."

"Were that it was so."

"Are you always so depressed?"

"Are you always so cheerful?"

"No, but I bet I know how I can cheer you up." and she had grabbed three candle sticks and began to juggle them like a circus act. She stopped and balanced one on her nose. "Impressed?" she asked looking at him from the corner of her eye as she kept the candle balanced.

"Not really." Erik said as he got up and made for his room, which he entered and then quickly shut the door.

When he emerged again a few days later he found her sitting on the floor next to his bookcase. She had up righted it from where the mob had thrown it and it seemed she had also began to organize the books on the shelves, although by color as far as he could tell. She was thumbing through a fairy tale book he had saved from a rubbish bin some years earlier. She would pause, study a page, and then move on until she had found another page of interest to stop at.

"What are you reading" he asked without thinking.

"I'm not, I can't read. There are some nice pictures in here though. I think I like this one, where this girl is asleep in a coffin. How odd, don't you think, to sleep in a coffin."

"Well if one has a preference-"

"It's absolutely morbid." She said sounding appalled; Erik winced. "I think its fascinating."

"Do you?"

"And why shouldn't I?" she laughed as she stood to place the book in the "purple" section.

"I think it's a rather odd thing for anyone to find 'fascinating'."

At this she merely shrugged and went back to doing what she had been doing; picking up another book and placing it on the shelf in another section without looking at. And no wonder, it was obviously a volume without pictures.

Erik spent more and more time in his room wishing he were dead or with Christine. Even if she never touched him or wanted him he thought somehow that simply having her around would be better than not being able to see her at all. Of course he knew this wasn't true, but the hand of despair covered his eyes and made him blind to reality.

Every time he emerged from his room, something else seemed to be put away, put together, adjusted and moved about, although he rarely caught her in the act he knew the girl was slowly rearranging his house to make it what she considered "livable." At least it kept her mostly quiet. She never troubled him at all and everything she needed she seemed to find herself. Except for her habit of tidying up. He didn't like that at all. Having his house in a state of disorder had served to remind him of the day Christine had walked out of his life forever. He liked that memory and the pain that came with it, for love was pain, and with every once of pain he felt he knew it meant he loved her that much more. That he needed her truly, and she would never come back for the love of another. That pain was especially sweet, the fact that he could live through it but not overcome it proved that his love was true. Love is pain. Pain is sweet.

It is said that some people crave this kind of thing. It is like a drug that goes to one's brain and gives them a feeling of euphoria. It is a release from a world they cannot explain to themselves, and so seek to Escape it. If anyone on this earth needed that sort of thing, it was definitely Erik.

One day when he emerged from his room, he nearly stepped on the girl. She was sitting on the floor in front of his door with a tray of food beside her.

"Finally." she said sounding a bit agitated, "I noticed you haven't eaten in a few days longer than usual and I realized if you die, well I just don't want to be responsible for the corpse. Here. Eat. Now." She stood and handed the tray to him before turning and leaving him alone. It seemed as though she had made him everything she could think off.

Quite a feat considering the lack of shopping he had done in the last few weeks. Everything looked good, but he wasn't sure if he was hungry or not. Still better not to cause any trouble. All he wanted was to be left alone and if eating breakfast would bring that about than so be it. He ate until he was full, set the tray on the table and hastily retreated to the safety of his room before he was offered dessert.

There came a day when Erik noticed that the cleaning of his house had ceased. And just in time as there seemed to be nothing left to clean. His books appeared color coded and in rainbow order (he didn't like that so much) the wood for his fire place was neatly stacked, the fireplace cleaned out, the furniture arranged and rearranged (save his fireside chair, she had enough sense to leave that alone), and everything had been dusted and cleaned to perfection. Even his organ his once prized possession had been restored to its former glory.

There was even a sheet of music, randomly selected from his collection he supposed), placed above the keys. He felt his fingers itch. How long had it been since he had visited his precious love; music? It was tempting. The girl was not around, surely one page of music played out would do no harm, it may even do him some good.

Erik closed his eyes and soon lost himself in the music, a piece he had long since memorized. He had promised himself just one piece, but before he had noticed he began playing another, Beethoven's ninth, Mozart, Tchechovsky, Faust, on and on and on till he was sure that he could not remember anymore. The last note of the organ hummed through his house as he lowered his head, eyes closed fingers still placed lovingly on the keys, as in reverence for what he had just done.

"Bravo." Erik turned to see the girl sitting on the floor not too far behind him. "That is the thing to say, isn't it?"

"I'd rather you not say anything at all." Erik moved to retreat into his room again.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Erik asked distractedly not really wanting or expecting an answer.

"Run back to your room as soon as I try to begin a civilized conversation with you?" Those eyes stared at him from behind the mask. "You realize we have been, well… living together for almost a month now. You know, I don't even know your name? I do consider it rather rude of you."

Erik made a mock bow. "I do apologize mademoiselle, but what would you have me do? Sip tea with you and discuss the weather? Comment on your fine redecorating skills? I'm afraid you have forgotten our current situation. You are my prisoner. I, your jailer. And this," he gestured to the room in which they stood, "your prison, no matter how much you tidy it up."

For once she seemed to be speechless, she stood looking at him from behind her mask, studying him. For a moment he thought that he had made her cry.

"I'm leaving, then. I think I'd rather take my chances up there than down here shut away from the world with a sulking ghost of a ghost who won't even leave his room long enough to eat. Besides, we are running out of food. Did you ever think of that? What will happen when the food runs out?"

"I suppose we'll starve."

"I'm not prepared to die down her like that with you. You who won't even acknowledge my presence except when you have to, when I force you to."

"Really? And where will you go? Do you really believe they have stopped searching for you? Perhaps if you where a man, but a female murderess? That is something that won't soon be forgotten. Especially one who wears such a distinctive mask."

"I really don't see why you would care, monsieur Phantom." She moved to retrieve her cloak from a stand in the corner of the room. Erik moved swiftly and trapped her there.

"I care, _Mademoiselle_," he hissed not two inches away from her face, "because I can't have you running around wherever you please. You are the only one who knows I'm still living down here. Do you realize what they will do to me if they find me?"

Her eyes narrowed beneath the mask. "It can't be much worse than what you are doing to yourself" she spat. "Go ahead; wallow in self pity till you dieBut don't think for a moment that I will allow myself to stay here and suffer the same fate. Whatever thing you have done to deserve this, I have not." She moved to walk out the door, fastening her cloak around her neck.

"You've killed a man." he said to her back. Her shoulders fell just a little. "Murdered him in cold blood. How can you say you don't deserve the same fate?"

"I am nothing like you!" She whirled around, making her cloak swirl around her imperiously. "You know nothing of it! Nothing! How dare you condemn me, for a crime you know nothing about!" And she did start to cry then, uncontrollably and with such force that she had to sit down on Erik's black leather couch.

Erik was a little bit amazed. It had been ages since had seen a girl cry, actually cry with no self restraint. She looked like such a child. He was at a loss at what to do.

"I didn't mean…"

"We do need food though. I don't want to starve to death down here. I do need food." She sniffled and tried to regain her composure. She turned her back towards Erik and removed her mask, presumably to dry her tears. Erik found himself wondering what she looked like and he understood that this was how Christine must have felt the night she stripped him of his mask.

"Alright. Yes I suppose we do need food, that is a fact I have neglected. Even the worst prisons provide the basic staples of life for their prisoners. I apologize, mademoiselle." For the first time since she had met him, Erik sounded sincere, and perhaps a little ashamed. "We will go together. Is that acceptable."

Her mask replaced, she turned back to face her jailer and nodded. He walked around the couch and held out his hand to help her up. "My name is Erik."

She took his hand and rose to her feet. "I am Angelique."

"Enchanté , Mademoiselle."


	3. help me name this chapter

True to his word, Erik led Angelique back up to the world for some midnight shopping. He no longer had many of the arrangements he had had previously, before he had been discovered, but there were some shops he was still able to gain access to. The shop owners only thought it a little eccentric when he had requested a key their stores so that he may enter and shop privately at night. Of course, they were delighted to find that Erik paid trice the listed prices for their trouble, which for the shopkeepers was really no trouble at all. It never ceased to amaze Erik how polite people could suddenly become when presented a large sum of money. Erik stood and watched silently allowing Angelique to pick out their supplies. She was wise in her selection and thrifty, though Erik had told her that she need not worry where money was concerned. On the way back to the opera house, Erik stopped to buy a newspaper from a late night vendor, careful to keep his face shadowed. The young boy seemed indifferent though as he quickly pocketed the coins before settling down to resume his nap.

That night as Angelique put the groceries where she pleased, Erik unfolded the paper and began scanning the tiny print. Finally he found what he was looking for on the second page.

Authorities have yet to discover the whereabouts of the female murderess that has come to be known as la meurtière masquée. It is said she lured her victim with promised indecincies before brutally stabbing him to death.This masked creature is considered to be extremely dangerous. If seen, authorities cauthion against a direct confrontation, but are offering a reward to for any information leading to her capture.

Erik peered over the edge of the paper at Angelique organizing the pantries. She didn't seem like the type to be lurng anyone anywhere with 'promised indecincies,' but the place that was named as the sikte of the murder fell into what was considered a red light district. He had heard stories of women who in their desperation had turned to prostatution in order to earn a little money with which to feed themselves. Perhaps she had lured him into a dark alley hopeing to rob him , he had resisted and she had been forece to stab in unknowingly killing him. Or perhaps she really did just murder him in cold blood. He wondered abnout it , but remained silent. She knew nothing o fhis past, he had no right to ask her of hers. He had always tried to remain the gentlenan. And he would do so now. Turning his back to angelique, he quickly folded the paer neatly and tossed it into the fire.

"Erik, dinner should be ready in about half and hour, providing nothing goes wrong. I expect you're hungry?" Angelique said wielding a ladle.

"Famished." Erik said flatly, taking his place in his chair by the fire.

"Excellent."

Dinner was quite pleasing to Erik's surprise. It seemed that Angelique was a remarkably good cook when she had what she needed to work with. She served him, though he had not asked her to, refilling his glass whenever it didn't look full. After dinner she cleared the table removing several dishes at one time quickly and efficiently as though it was second nature. Erik took note of this but said nothing. For the first time he realized how frustrating it must have been for Christine. While he had made it a point to learn everything he could about her, he had revealed little or nothing about himself. Perhaps if he had opened up a little, made himself more of a man than a specter to her, maybe she could have found it in her heart to love him. Erik looked up to see that Angelique had also selected book, the book of fairy tales, and had sat on the floor a little ways from him to examine the illustrations. She seemed to be trying to piece together from just the pictures.

"Would you like me to read it to you?" Erik asked cautiously.

A smile spread across her face that he had not seen since she had come. "Would you?" she asked handing him the book. She moved closer as Erik began to read, arranging her dress around her. Angelique stared into the flames envisioning a girl with 'hair as dark as ebony and skin as white as snow.'


	4. Happy Accident

Slowly Angelique was beginning to unravel the mystery of the phantom She would never admit it, but in the first month of her imprisonment she had been terribly frightened of him. However, it seemed that if she just began a conversation that interested Erik he would soon open up a little, sometimes even telling small stories from his past. Erik especially loved to explain how things worked. Angelique was amazed at his knowledge and began to thing that there was nothing he didn't know. Erik continued to read to her sporadically at first but it soon became their nightly ritual.

Erik continued to buy newspapers nightly, leaving shortly after Angelique had fallen asleep. He would read the articles paying close attention to any leads the police had supposedly received. None of them were accurate, of course as Angelique had been with him since the night of the crime. He sighed as he turned the page, hoping there might be more to the article, instead he read:

_The Vicomte de Chagney injured in horse-riding accident _

The Vicomte de Chagney was thrown from his horse while taking an 

_afternoon ride with his wife. The couple was riding on their Paris_

_Estate grounds, as is their afternoon habit, when the Vicomte's horse was spooked and he was thrown. The family insists the horse the Vicomte was riding is usually gentle to a fault and see this as an_

_Unfortunate one-time accident. Still, it is undecided whether or not_

_The family will keep the animal. Unfortunately, the Vicomte has suffered a blow to the head. While his exact condition is unknown, it is suspected by this writer that he will be most definitely restricted to his bed for some time. The Vicomtess is very distraught over the incident, refusing to comment to this humble reporter. _

Erik's heart skipped a beat. Christine was still in Paris? He had thought that after everything that had happened the boy would have enough sense to retreat his new wife to one of his English properties. How tempting to know that at anytime he wished he might take a cab down the street and peek into her new life. "_Yes_," said one part of him, "_It will be quite comforting to know that that little brat has been treating her properly, and with this horrible accident, shouldn't we make sure that she is alright? She must be devastated_." The logical rational side of his mind fought furiously against these thoughts, but all the while there was Loneliness tugging at his shirtsleeve, enticing him to pay a visit to Christine.

The next day he did nothing, but sit in his fireside chair, contemplating the situation. His mind was carefully weighing the pros and cons should he take action, should he chose to see Christine.

The day after was reserved for planning. It wasn't hard to discover where the Chagney Estate was located. He was surprised he hadn't found about Christine living in Paris before this, but then had been for the last few months "sulking", as Angelique would say. With the address thoroughly memorized he began to look over old maps of the city. He cried out in shock when he discovered their little love nest was almost within walking distance of the Opera. Of course, he never actually planned to act on any of this it was for research purposes only.

That night he found he could not sleep. _She's so close._ Loneliness whispered in his ear. _Is it so wrong, to want to see that she is safe? To know she's all right? What kind of man would you be if you let the woman you love suffer this tragedy alone?_

"Where are you going?" Erik turned to see a bleary eyed Angelique standing close behind him.

"I have an errand to run." Erik said as he pulled on his black leather gloves.

"This late?"

"Actually, it's quite early in the morning."

"May I go with you? I get so bored sitting around her every night."

"No."

"Why not?" Erik hesitated. It was such a simple question really, but the answer didn't seem right even to him. _I'm going to sneak into a married woman's home to see her while her husband may lie dying in his bed and well, it's not the sort of trip you want company on. _

"It's a private affair." Erik said in what he hoped was his most commanding voice.

"All right," Angelique said sitting in Erik's chair by the fire and crossing her arms, "I'll stay here though I don't know why I must." She looked like a little girl who had just been chastised by her father. At this signal of obedience, Erik placed his fedora on his head and left.

It hadn't taken long for curiosity to get the better of Angelique. She quickly donned her cloak and lowered her hood to shadow her mask as Erik had shown her to do. She knew the way to the surface, and easily made it out in time to see Erik turn the corner at the end of the street. She followed at a safe distance, keeping in to the shadows and muffling her steps as best she could. It occurred to her that normally Erik would have realized that he was being followed, but tonight he seemed very distracted for some reason. "_All the more reason," _Angelique thought_, "to tag along on his little errand."_


	5. A pleasent moonlit stroll

Just a little note. Thanks to all who reviewed! Sorry about not updating for a long, looonng while, but if you want to know the full story go check out my profile. The point is I'm back and I promise there will be more frequent updates. Also, sorry about the length of the chapters but you will be happy to know that more often than not I post more than one chapter at a time.

Please, read and review, and hey just for fun try to guess what Angelique's secret is. Why does she were a mask? If you guess right I'll give you ummm....a cookie! Yum!

* * *

It was a large estate for being so close to the city, a pleasant little house with a few acres of land and a garden. Christine had always been fond of flowers. Once upon a time Erik had taken note of this fact and placed fresh flowers in her room that he kept for her. They had to be replaced every few days. _Flowers do not bloom very well underground._ He thought.

It would have been nothing to ascend the wall and sneak into their bedroom, through the wide glass window, but he was just so damn tired of that. Still, it would no do for him to simply knock on the door like a normal person. He stood a shadow amongst shadows pondering his predicament. The stars above winked in and out of sight, completely oblivious to the world below. The moon was out that night, and shone down on the little garden onto beds of small purple and white flowers. There was a slight breeze, just enough to stir his cloak slightly and carry the musty pleasant smell of earth and spring rain to his nose. All along the street, people were in their houses, lights out, tucked safely in their beds. Tomorrow they would wake up and start another day in their blessedly ordinary lives. "_It is not for me_." He thought clearing his head of such daydreams. _"It shall never be_."

There was a rustle in the bushes behind him. Without seeming to move the Punjab lasso was in his hand. It would not do for there to be unknown persons lurking in Christine's garden, not counting him of course.

"Erik, what is this place?"

Erik remained facing the house, silently tucking away his weapon while attempting to suppress his anger. "Angelique, I thought I told you to stay home."

"It's scary in that house alone," A little white lie, but believable, "I thought it would be nice to go out for a walk with you."

"You were mistaken. I've business to take care of tonight. Now…go home."

"But, really Erik it's such a pretty night and-"

"Go!" Erik said; whirling around to face her for the first time since the conversation had began. There was something in his eyes, something Angelique had never seen before, that frightened her and moved her to obey. Without another word, she disappeared silently out of sight.

Perhaps it had been a little harsh, but his tone of command achieved the desired results. Somehow his confrontation with Angelique had steadied his resolve. With simple grace, he scaled the wall to the bedroom suite, the room which Christine and Raoul no doubt shared nightly. Erik peered through the delicate glass of the French door windows. Raoul was stretched out, eyes closed, rather pathetically upon an ancient oak bed. Erik could tell by the beads of sweat running down his forehead that he was running a dangerously high temperature. Christine sat in a plush chair beside him holding his hand and looking on with obvious concern.

Quietly Erik entered the room. "He doesn't look that bad." At the sound of his voice Christine whirled in her chair to face him, "Erik?" Raoul winced and moaned in his sleep. Erik smirked. Christine wiped away a bead of sweat that had formed on Raoul's brow. "How did you find out?"

"I read all about it in a newspaper a few days ago. The paper said he would make a full recovery, but by the look of him I'd say they were misinformed"

"His family didn't want this to get out, bad enough he married me. Best to avoid more scandal for the Chagney family."

The room was silent, but for the ticking of an old grandfather clock somewhere in the room beside them. Erik kept his distance from Christine, though every inch of him longed to be near her, to comfort her. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here, to see them together in their house. It made everything seem more final. There was nothing he could say; nothing either of them could say. So they remained silent staring at the one thing that had come between them fight for his life.

Somewhere in Paris under sputtering lamplight, Angelique was making her way back to the opera house. It was unusually cold for the season and she struggled to keep herself warm, wrapping her cloak more securely around her. There were shops and boutiques on either side of her and she stopped often to view the merchandise in the windows. A beautiful blue dress was draped over a lifeless manikin. She traced the outline of the garment with her finger on the cold glass and at that moment it occurred to her that she could not remember the last time she had been in a shop, or been above ground during the day. She hadn't realized the things he had been missing living with Erik. The air, and the flowers, and the birds and the sunshine. Birds don't sing at night. She could only imagine what she looked like, pale and sickly and hardly alive. The thought disgusted her. Perhaps she could convince Erik to let her see one of the Operas.

Almost too soon the opera house came into sight. She sighed not ready to return to the world below.

"Hello lady," Said and unfamiliar voice behind her.

Angelique whirled around to face a roughly dressed gentleman. Frankly she was surprised he had seen her. She had been careful to stay in the shadows on off chance that anyone would be out at this time of night.

"Where are you going, lady, this late. Perhaps you would like some company, yes?"

"No thank you."

"O, but you have stolen my heart, sweet lady."

The man moved closer, and Angelique took a step back.

"You've not seen my face." The hood that she had pulled down low remained in place.

"Yes, but love is blind and I am in love. Why do you hide in the shadows? Let me walk with you so that I may look upon your face."

She could smell the alcohol on his breath. He took another step forward, forcing Angelique into the light of the lamps above. The man's eyes opened wide in shocked recognition. Angelique turned to run, but the brute caught her wrist and held it in a nasty grip. "Do you know how much you are worth? I knew the man you killed. I know your secret. I know why you wear that mask to hide your face. Shall I prove it? The reason you wear that damned mask is –ughk!"

The man's head was yanked out of the light for a moment and then the hand that gripped her wrist fell limp and the man slumped to the ground. Erik bent down over the dead man to retrieve his lasso. He stood and tucked it calmly back into its assigned hiding place. "I had a feeling I would have to use that tonight." Angelique covered her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming. Erik sighed before bending down again to lift the body effortlessly and drape it over his shoulder. It was the first time in many years that anyone had witnessed Erik make a kill. Angelique was horrified "Go home now, I'll take care of this." Angelique stood frozen to the spot, eyes wide. She couldn't believe the thing flung over Erik's shoulder had been alive only a moment ago, threatening her life. The man's eyes were wide in shock and, Angelique thought, just a bit of accusation. "Is something wrong?" Said the lifeless body. "Angelique?" No, it was Erik who had spoken; the other man was most certainly dead. Dead…

For a moment a speck of light hung suspended in a pair of almond eyes, something passed over them and just as quickly the speck of light was gone but in it's place, a memory:

_Blood._

_The scent of blood hung sharp and metallic in the air. There was blood everywhere; on the ground and spattered on the brick wall._

_A thought:_ One person's body should not hold that much blood.

_Nearby she can hear someone breathing hard. It's her breath. She can feel it coming in quick tight gasps._

"_You bitch!" _

_She turns. _

_There is a man; a beautiful blonde haired man clutches his side. Blood pours steadily through his fingers. He leans against the brick wall for support. He would look like an angel but for the scowl of pain on his face. Suddenly, one of his legs buckles and with a cry he falls to one knee. "You stupid bitch!"_

_She takes a step back from the angelic man and almost stumbles backwards over a body. She remembers thinking _he's dead_. And suddenly the knife that she had been holding all along falls from her hand to the floor with a clatter. She hears the sound of feet running in her direction. _

'They're coming_!' something inside her screams, '_they've heard him. Run!_'_

_Somehow she sees the scene form above. In a dark remote ally lies a dead man spread out awkwardly in a pool of blood, another struggles to stand while not far away in the main road a group of men runs towards the ghastly scene. Above it all she watches from a birds eye view._

_She sees herself run. _

"Angelique?" Erik's voice grabbed her and pulled her out of her dark reverie. The present became tangible once more. There was Erik standing in front of her, concern painted visibly across the exposed side of his face. "It's on my conscience." He said in soft tones, putting a hand on her shoulder to reassure her. "You did nothing, go home." Without a word, Angelique turned and made her way home.


	6. A night cap

A short while later Erik entered his house to find Angelique sitting on the floor staring into the fire. Her dress was fanned out gracefully around her, and beside her was an untouched cup of English tea. Erik stood still where he was watching her watch the flames. The fire crackled and snapped softly in the background and cast long and unfamiliar shadows in the otherwise unlit room.

A feeling of something hung in the air heavily, something that eluded Erik's grasp and yet somehow found a place on Angelique's face. Slowly, as if fearing to break something fragile, though he didn't know what, Erik removed his hat and cloak and set them in their proper place. He made a wide circle to the other side of the room out of the girl's line of vision. There was the creak of a cabinet opening, the sound of something being taken out (one thing, two things, three things) and set down on wood. Glass slid against glass, a small clink and liquid being poured. The sound again and more liquid. Glass slid against glass once more and the item was set back in cabinet.

Seconds passed and suddenly a glass of golden-brown liquid hovered above her head and to the right. Angelique took the glass gratefully, holding it in front of her with both hands as if it were precious. Erik sat down beside her, but dared not speak a word. Situations like this, he realized, were not his forte. Beside him Angelique took a good-sized drink. The liquid ran fiery hot and delicious down her throat.

"Cognac." She said softly. "Double distilled in pot stills and then aged for one year in new oak casks before being further aged in used old casks until the drink reaches its maturity. This one has been aged for about ten years. Very fine, and very expensive." She glanced sidelong at Erik and laughed out loud at his shocked expression. "Well, am I correct?"

"Actually, yes very much so, though this particular bottle is twelve years old." Erik shook his head and finished off his glass "And to think, here I was struggling to find a way to politely offer you drink. You never cease to amaze do you?"

"I should hope not, heaven forbid." The silence returned, (but for the fire) this time settling around the two comfortably. It wasn't often that she drank anything as strong as what Erik had given her and soon Angelique began to relax visibly beside him.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Who's house was that we were at earlier tonight?"

A mental image of Christine flashed briefly in Erik's mind. "An old friend."

"Oh, an old friend of yours Erik? They must be very interesting indeed. I would have loved to meet him."

"Her." Erik corrected before he realized he had done so. _Alcohol, _he thought belatedly_, dulls one's wits and opens one's mouth. _

"Oh." Silence for a moment. "I'm sorry." Erik looked at her in wonder, she had known somehow, though he had told her nothing. There must have been something in that single word he muttered, something that he had not meant to be there, but there it was and Angelique had been able to pick up on it. She did not push him on the matter, but remained silent beside him, offering comfort in the form of companionable silence.

Erik cleared his throat and began to speak awkwardly. "About earlier, I did not think it would upset you so, seeing as…well with you being… If I had known, I would have handled the situation differently."

"I'm all right really. I suppose things of this nature should not disturb me anymore. I am la meurtière masquée after all." She said with just a hint of malice. Erik wondered where she had found out what the public had named her. He had been careful to burn every paper to keep her ignorant to the fact that there was a whole world out there that wished her nothing but death.

Angelique grew distant as she stared into the flames. Erik could feel the situation slipping and he hastened to change the subject. "How is it you know so much about fine spirits?" It was the same trick she used on him sometimes, he realized, to get him to tell her about his past.

"My former occupation. Before I came here I was a server at a little pub called Le Chat Souriant." Angelique smiled at a memory. "After you do something for a while you begin to pick up on things. I made a few friends over the years and they taught me a thing or two about how spirits are made."

Erik tried to imagine Angelique serving tables. Briefly he remembered the first time they had had an actual meal together. He could believe it, but how could she have had such a public job if she had been wearing that mask. Surely someone would have said something about it, someone mush have been curious. He himself was insanely curious, he realized, to know the reason she wore the mask but he could not bring himself to ask her directly why she did. He asked instead. "Angelique, did you wear a mask before the night of…before you came to the opera house?"

"Yes. Ever since I can remember. It was a gift from my mother." Angelique answered gently.

It was too ironic, but where as Erik recalled the memory of his first mask with anger and contempt, Angelique spoke of receiving hers as if it were a pleasant childhood memory. Erik couldn't believe it and he stared at Angelique with unveiled astonishment.

"Surely, you do not enjoy wearing it?"

Angelique regarded Erik curiously before answering. "It has always been a blessing."

Erik's eyes narrowed and he gripped his empty glass with more force than was needed. "A Blessing!" His voice boomed. "Oh, you poor girl, it is a damnable burden and a curse that we must hide our faces from the world!"

Angelique rose up to meet his challenge with ill-hid indignation. "Your wrong! You don't understand, this mask protects me."

It was almost laughable. "That is a horrible lie. It's only what you've been taught to think. I too once thought the same thing." Erik thought back to a time when he had thought his mask was a magical ward against the horrible monster in the mirror. " But it simply isn't true. I've grown since then and I know now that it was all just a terrible lie." He said, almost shouting by this point. Angelique stared at Erik in amazement. He looked down on her, eyes practically glowing with rage. He was tense all over and his hands were balled into fists at his side. She swore that she could feel the anger pulsing off of him in dark waves, threatening to smother her.

"Erik…" She said softly, "Perhaps it is time we went to bed. It's been a long night and I'm sure we both need our rest."

Erik blinked. "Rest? Yes…of course." He stood, gathering the glasses as he went and setting them in their proper places. He hesitated before going to his room. "You're quite sure you're all right?"

"Yes, of course. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Erik walked into his room and shut the door behind him. As he dressed for bed, he found himself thinking about the way Angelique had acted earlier after he had 'dealt' with the man who had accosted her. Her eyes had glazed over and he had been unable to reach her. For a moment, he had thought she had gone completely mad and he had been concerned. Erik stopped what he was doing and let the thought sink in. He had been **_concerned_** for her. The idea astounded him. It was definitely not something he wanted to feel for anyone at the moment. He would just have to keep his distance, but she was just so damn intriguing. It was the mask; it had to be. It was amazing that someone other than himself had suffered the same fate and been forced to wear a mask since they were a child. Even more amazing was the fact she wore it gladly. She counted it a blessing! What was she hiding!

A sudden wave of understanding hit him. He imagined he was feeling something along the lines of what Christine had felt the day she stripped him of his mask. He had long since forgiven her for the incident, but tonight, he finally understood.

In the other room, Angelique was making ready for bed; arranging blankets Erik had bought for her into a pallet on the floor in front of the fireplace. Tonight, for the first time in a long time, she remembered to be afraid of Erik.

Twice in one night, she had seen that look in his eyes. Once in the garden and again, more intensely, when they had discussed her mask. She couldn't understand what had made him so upset.

* * *

well...Ihope that appeases you for a while...ya right. This chapter took a lot out of me, but I'm trying to update at a reasonable pace. Please review...it is like one in the morning and my eyes, they burn! I suffered for you the least you can do is post on incy weency tiny little review. 


	7. Chapter 7

After the incident Angelique refused to leave the Opera house. She spent her days looking at books, cooking, listening to Erik read or sleeping. In fact, she would sleep for most of the day.

The sparkle in her eye had disappeared. Erik had not even realized it had been there until it was gone. It was as though something haunted her now, something that she had almost succeeded in escaping, that had suddenly caught up to her.

Sometimes he would walk into the room and catch her staring at nothing lost in her own thoughts which seemed darker than they ought to be and then that unwelcome emotion would come again, unbidden. Concern.

One night, not long after, he was awakened by a terrible scream. Realizing immediately who it must be he donned his mask and ran out of his room to find Angelique thrashing about on the floor. She was still asleep, he realized. Her hands were balled up into tight fists, and there were tears streaming from her closed eyes.

"Angelique! Wake up!" Erik knelt down and grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to shake her awake.

She would not wake. She struggled against him, trying to escape him, or perhaps something in her dream. He forced her to sit up. "Angelique! Wake up, it's me! Erik!"

Finally her eyes snapped open, and she realized quickly were she was. "Erik…" With that, she threw her arms around his neck, buried her head in his shoulder and began to cry without restraint.

Erik's eyes opened wide at the unexpected contact, but he did his best to comfort her. "Shhh…you're safe now. It was only a nightmare. It wasn't real. "

"No, you don't understand, it was real." She said with a sob.

"I know sometimes nightmares seem real, but-"

"No! It was real. It is real!" she yelled with such force that Erik was shocked.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing." With a sigh she released him and sat back. "You're right it was only a dream. Only a dream, and nothing more." She said, but her words sounded hollow to him. She sat across from him, staring sadly at the floor, as if she were remembering something.

He suddenly realized that her condition was growing worse. Without intervention, she would slowly spiral down deeper into a pit of depression that she may not be able to escape from. It seemed that the memory of the deed she had done was slowly eating away at her, consuming her spirit from within.

Ironic now that Angelique had turned into what he had been when she first arrived. For the first time he saw how her being here had changed him. He no longer wished for death as he once did, even if he did not fully long to live. She had given him a reason to be, to simply exist. It seemed she had saved him from himself. He would have to try to do the same for her.

"Erik, I'm tired. I think I'm going to try to go back to sleep."

Erik considered her for a moment. "Would you like me sit up with you?"

"No thank you. I'm fine, really." She attempted a smile, "It was only a dream, after all." With that she curled up beneath the blankets and turned away from him, thus ending the conversation.


	8. Chapter 8

No matter how hard he tried, Erik could not convince Angelique to leave the opera house. She seemed determined to hide away beneath the earth forever.

After much deliberation, Erik finally came to a decision. It wasn't his first choice, but it was the best he could think of under the circumstances. It was worth a try at least.

"Angelique, how would you like to see an opera?"

She agreed at once, much to Erik's dismay.

It was surprisingly easy to secure a box for that night's performance. The managers now kept box five empty as a rule.

This was mainly for two reasons.

One: the actors, being extremely superstitious about such things, thought it would be better not to anger the ghost of the infamous phantom. They insisted that it would bring horrifically bad luck down upon the entire opera house if someone displeasing to the ghost should sit in his box.

Two: It had become surprisingly profitable to have one empty box so that they could have something to stare at during the production. Since his demise, the story of the phantom of the opera had spread alarmingly. It was now extremely fashionable in certain circles to come to the opera for the sole purpose of watching box five and to discuss what one saw (or what they thought they saw) over chilled fruit and wine in the foyer after the performance.

For his part, Erik found it extremely irritating that the managers had refused to grant him his private box while he was still 'alive,' but now that he was dead, they were only too glad to leave it free.

When they arrived, they found programs had been placed on the empty seats, probably at the insistence of the cast and crew. Angelique picked up her program and flipped through it excitedly while Erik calmly took his own seat. How many operas had he seen in his time there?

Meanwhile, Angelique looked down at the stage in wonder. "It's wonderful!"

Erik couldn't help but laugh a little. "It's just a curtain, wait until the show starts."

"Yes, but it's a wonderful curtain. I've never seen anything like it," she said, leaning farther out to get a better look.

Erik placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her back. "Wait until the light's dim. We wouldn't want anybody to see us, would we?"

Angelique shook her head, and sat back in her seat. Below them in the pit the orchestra began their warm up. Erik saw Angelique shuffle through her program for the hundredth time out of the corner of his eye.

"Stop fidgeting."

"I can't help it, I'm too excited!"

Finally, just when Angelique thought that she wouldn't be able to stand it any longer, the lights dimmed and the curtain went up. It was a new production, something that Erik had never seen before. As the music began, Angelique chanced a glance down at the audience. It was humorous to see all those upturned faces staring back at her when they should have been watching the stage. It seemed as though they were staring right at her. She wasn't worried though, Erik had assured her, that they would be well hidden in the shadows.

Angelique turned to Erik and laughed, "They're all looking for you. I wonder what they would do if they knew you were actually up here!"

Erik had a pretty good idea of what they would do. The managers would probably have a heart attack, quickly recover and then call the police. He had taken a big risk by bringing Angelique here tonight, but when the dancers came on stage and he saw her smile, he knew it had been worth it.

He was glad she was enjoying herself. Personally he thought the piece was rather dry. It was a love story. The plot was poor, and the music was just good enough to be considered passable.

Finally, after what Erik considered an eternity, there was an intermission.

"Erik, it's wonderful! I wonder how it will end."

"Tragically."

"You don't know that for sure. Perhaps her love will realize his mistake and come back just in time."

"Not likely. I've seen this one before."

"I thought you said it was new."

"It is."

The curtain went up again and they were treated to a bit of dancing by the corps de ballet.

"Did you see that?" Angelique asked.

"What?"

"She missed a step, there third from the left. She did it again!"

Erik peered down at the stage, but could see nothing out of place. The dancers seemed to be dancing in perfect unison. Then he saw it, the ballerina third from the left was off, if only by the slightest degree.

"Sloppy." Angelique said with disgust.

Later that night they discussed the show at home over chilled fruit and wine. Erik was sorry that he could not take Angelique to the foyer for discussion. He felt sure that she would be right at home rubbing elbow with the opera's most distinguished patrons.

"You were right, it did end tragically, but who could have predicted she would die right before the end?"

Erik sipped his wine and said nothing. After a moment curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask. "Angelique, how did you notice that the dancing was off tonight? They looked like they were doing perfectly to me."

"I'm sure it appeared that way to the audience as well." Angelique gave a slight smile. "My mother was a dancer, here as a matter of fact, sometime before I was born. She taught me a thing or two about it. She was pretty good two from the stories I was told, but she was dismissed suddenly one day, because of an unfortunate injury. My mom always said that it was one of the other girls who had tripped her that day, and I would believe that before I would believe she tripped over her own feet. After that she met my father, and well, once you have a child it's very hard to go back to something that demands so much time and dedication."

Erik was just about to ask Angelique more about her mother, when suddenly the lake alarm went off. Angelique looked at Erik over the top of her wineglass as if to say, 'well, it's not me.'

Startled Erik quickly donned his cloak fearing the worst. He was just sure someone had seen them in the box and that they had been followed. There would be no avoiding it this time. Whoever it was he would have to kill them, but what if they were missed? By tomorrow he could have half the opera house knocking on his front door. With those dark thoughts, he checked that he had his punjab lasso, cursed under his breath, and headed out to the lake.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks to all who reviewed!

**Mrs. Gerard Butler**: LOL! Zoloft… I love that little deppressed blob on the commercials, he's soooo cute…

Currently this story is listed under the General category, but I'm thinking about changing that. General is just so boooring! Any suggestions as to which category this story should be in?

Read and review…please… puppy dog eyes

Erik slowly guided the boat to the opposite shore. He took no lantern and went as silently as possible hoping to catch his mystery guest or guests unawares, but even the water slapping against the sides of the boat sounded deafening to him.

His worst fear was that the police had already been called and would be waiting for him on shore pistols in hand. They wouldn't hesitate to shoot, he was sure of it. If that was the case, he would simply turn around, fetch Angelique and leave the opera by one of his secret ways. Once they were safe they could go their separate ways, and of course he would give her a small sum of money to survive on for a while, at least enough to make it safely out of Paris.

On the shore, a fuzzy light wavered and moved as if it were searching for something. It seemed to be only one person. A wave of relief quickly washed over Erik, he could handle one person. With nothing left to fear, he steered to boat closer to shore, without caring if the figure saw him or not. Perhaps they would become frightened, believing they were seeing a ghost, and leave on their own.

Then suddenly a voice broke the silence.

"Erik? Erik is that you?"

He knew that voice.

"Christine?"

Forgetting all thoughts of stealth, he docked the boat and ran to meet her. She had obviously been crying, and looked as though she would begin again any moment.

"Christine? What is it?"

"Raoul" She said as if speaking the name caused her pain. She gave a little hiccup of a sob before continuing, "He's getting worse. His fever won't break, he sweats constantly, and by the look on his face, I could swear he continuously has nightmares. The doctors say there is nothing to be done. They say he's going to die." With this, poor Christine placed her head in her hands and cried like a woman who knows she is about to lose her husband.

Erik gathered her into a friendly embrace and did his best to comfort her. After all this time, he was still her angel.

"Erik, please come see him for yourself."

"My dear, what could I do for him that the doctors haven't already done?"

Christine shook her head. "They are only doctors, what do they know? Please say you'll examine him. If you say there is nothing to be done, then there really is nothing to be done, but at least I'll know I tried everything."

Reluctantly Erik agreed. "As you wish," he said with a sigh, knowing almost with certainty that he would be unable to help Raoul, but perhaps it would ease Christine's mind somehow.

Erik had seen enough death in his time to know what a dying man looked like. There was one laying on a bed in front of him now. Raoul was covered in sweat and yet he was shivering. He mumbled in his sleep, his face was twisted in an expression of pain and fear. He stank.

With a look of disgust, Erik pulled back the sheets. Beside him christine gasped as he tore open Raoul's shirt. Blood- stained bandages crisscrossed his abdomen. They were obviously homemade and appeared not to have been changed in some time. Judging by the smell, the wound was infected.

Erik turned to Christine. "Did you know about this? She assured him the she had known nothing about it. "Surely you did. When, he fell from his horse, did he hit anything on the ground. Anything sharp that might have cut him?"

Christine gave him a strange look. "I wasn't with him when he was thrown. I was in the country at the time. He wished to left alone to attend to some business and so I went off to stay with one of our cousins for a while. I came back immediatley, as soon as I got word."

"I read in the paper that you had been with him. The column said it was your daily habit."

"Nonsense, I can't abide horses. I wasn't there. I only know what his family told me."

"His family? Why would they lie to the press about something like that?"

Carefully, Erik peeled away the bandages. The wound was worse that he had first thought. It was not a cut, the boy had been peirced in the side. Frankly, Erik was surprised he was still alive.

"Christine, I don't think this is from falling off a horse."

"What do you mean?" Christine asked with clear, innocent eyes.

He hadn't the heart to tell her. "Nevermind."He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll do what I can." It was going to be a long night.

So, Raoul de Chagney had been stabbed, and Erik had a pretty good idea who by. It was just too big of a coincidence. The de Changeys were a bunch of idiots, keeping his true injurys secret even from the boy's doctors. They were willing to let him die just to avoid a potential scandal. It made him sick.

Erik, cleaned and dressed the wound properly. He showed Christine how to do it as well, and warned her not to let anyone know what she was doing. He didn't know how far the family would go to protect their precious name.

"**ANGELIQUE**!" Erik bellowed as he entered his lair. There was the sound of glass shattering and Angelique ran in from the next room where she had been putting up the wine glasses, wiping her hands on an apron and wearing a very shocked expression.

A very worn looking former opera ghost stood in front of her. His hair hung limply over his face and mask, and his manner of dress, usallly immaculate, was out of order.

"Erik, what is it?" she asked, visibly concerned.

"I demand you tell me exactly what happened the night you came to the Opera house!" He said, throwing his gloves down on the chairside table.

"You demand?" she asked, a little taken aback.

"Yes, I absolutley do. I want to know every wretched detail! Every blasted thing that happened before, during, and after." In the candle light Erik's eyes glowed in a way that frightened her and commanded her to obey.

Angelique did not qauil, but instead looked up at Erik defiantly.

"And, why should I?"

"Because..." _Yes, why should she? _"Because I have a right to know...as your protector!"

"My protector!" Angelique said, placing her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, monsieur phantom, but I was under the impression that you were my jailer, I your prisoner." She said, qouting the words he had spoken to her once. "Why should I tell you? Why should I give up my secrets freely and allow you to keep yours."

"Everyone in Paris knows what the story of the Opera Ghost. You said yourself, your mother told you the tale.What secrets do I have left? "

"I can think of one." Angelique stepped forward angering Erik to the breaking point with her blatant defiance. Then it dawned on him. The mask. Of course, it always came down to it one way or another. Violently he snatched her wrist and brought her closer still.

"If that is the price I must pay to know the truth, so be it." He said through clenched teeth, and with that he tore his mask off, and flung it to the ground.

Erik's eyes remained fixed on Angelique, intent on taking in her reaction, but where he expected to find horror and revulsion, he read only a deep look of sadness, perhaps even regret, that wavered and changed into one of resignation.

"Very well." Angelique said, her voice shaking if only a little. "I suppose, for that, you deserve to know the truth, and I know now exactly how I must begin."

Gently, she freed her wrist from his grasp and took a small step back. She lowered her head and with trembling hands slowly deprieved herself of the most precious gift she had ever recieved, the gift her mother had presented her with love.

Erik's eyes opened wide and something like a gasp came unbidden from his throat. He stumbled backwards, and knocked over his chair, as if trying to escape. The sight he beheld was more horrific than anything he could have imagined.


	10. Chapter 10

To Erik's shock and horror, the face beneath the mask was not the travesty he had envisioned. In fact, not one blemish marred the face that stared back at him with tear-filled eyes. "_Perfection"_. The thought came unbidden to his mind as only it could to the mind of an artist. Belatedly, he remembered his own uncovered face and with a curse under his breath, he scrambled to replace his mask.

With a sigh, Angelique turned away to replace her own mask. She had known what lay beneath Erik's mask, who in Paris didn't? This was not the way she had wanted it to be.

"I suppose for you to truly understand, I will have to tell you my whole story from the beginning and perhaps from just a little before it." Here Angelique paused to take a deep breath and Erik hat the feeling that he was about to be entrusted with something almost sacred.

"My mother," she began softly," was once a dancer in this very opera house. A promising talent, she rose quickly within the chorus and it wasn't long before she had many admirers, but she was dedicated to her art and so she turned them all away…except one; my father.

For reasons which she could never fully make me understand, she thought my father was different and soon she fell in love. I suppose he must have been very charming. News of me came shortly after and naturally my mother was forced to give up her career as a dancer. She turned to my father for help, but suddenly his love for her seemed to vanish. He called my mother a whore, and said that she could be carrying anyone's child, everyone knew how theatre people were and so on. It was the biggest disappointment in her life.

So, broken-hearted, my mother went out into the world and tried to make here way the best she could, but few places would hire an unwed mother. That's how we ended up at Le Chat Souriant, a tavern and hotel of sorts.

I know it wasn't a place mother would have chose for us if she could have afforded to be choosy. It was in the red-light distract, and it didn't take me long to discover what went on in the uninhabited rooms at night.

We lived in one of the unused rooms upstairs. My mother was a server and as soon as I was able, I became one too. As I grew older, I began to notice that some of the customers looked at me strangely. I didn't know what it meant at the time, but it made me feel uncomfortable and give me a sick sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My mother must have noticed it too, because one night, not long after, she sat me down and gave me a box wrapped in paper.

'What is it?' I asked, excitedly. We were poor and I didn't get presents often.

'A gift, the most precious gift I think I can give you.'

She told me that it would protect me and that I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore.

By this time I had opened the package and was holding the mask in my hands. It stared back at me with hollow eyes and my excitement in my mother's gift began to fade. My mother must have sensed this because she quickly urged me to try it on and have a look in the mirror.

Somehow, with my eyes staring back at me through it, the mask seemed to become a part of me. I never removed it in public after that. My mother invented a story about a childhood illness or accident, I'm not sure which, that had left me scarred. Soon everyone who frequented the tavern had heard my story and men who had once looked at me with desire now viewed me with pity and sometimes even disgust, but it was a welcome change.

It wasn't long after that that mother died from consumption. Not knowing what else to do, I stayed at the tavern. I was young and unskilled; I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hire me for any other position. I was happy for a time. I had my friends, both those who worked at and patronized the tavern, though only a select few had ever seen my face.

Then one night a couple of gentlemen came to le chat. It wasn't that unusual to see well dressed gentlemen in our establishment. It was a sort of refuge for them, where other members of high society were unlikely to come and so they were free to do as the pleased with no fear of anyone alerting their wives and families who would surely be scandalized.

The two men sat at the table farthest from the door. I remember one had beautiful blond hair and a sweet face; I didn't care too much for the other. He gave off a sort of dark energy, the kind that made me sick to my stomach and as I the tables around them, I caught a bit of their conversation." Here, Angelique hesitated as if reliving the moment. "I won't tell you what he said, but it made my skin crawl and I could feel my face getting hot under my mask. He was talking about me.

As I served them, I could feel his eyes always on me. It had been so long since I had someone look at me with desire that the feeling of disgust and paranoia was so overwhelming, I had to go outside for a breath of air.

I left my duties and ran to the ally behind the tavern. I couldn't believe it. Despite the mask, that man had desired me. It seems some people are naturally attracted to the macabre. I was just trying to process this, when I heard footsteps to my right.

My hand automatically reached for the stiletto concealed in my coat as I turned to return back inside.

'Where are you going in such a hurry?'

It seemed I had realized my error in judgment too late. The dark man stood in front of me blocking the way back inside and back to safety.

'Excuse me, monsieur I have to attend to my duties.' I said trying to find my way around him.

'I only want to talk to you for a bit.'

Suddenly there was another I heard another set of footsteps, It seemed his blond friend had joined us. "Henrique please, she is obviously not interested."

'What are you talking about? The girls in this part of town are always interested. Isn't that so, Mademoiselle?' he said turning back to me. His breath reeked of liquor and by the way he was swaying unsteadily on his feet I could tell he was very drunk. 'Don't worry, we can pay.' He laughed, 'Hell, you'll probably get more than you make in an entire night! Now stop acting coy, and give us a kiss.' He grabbed my arm and I instinctively drew my knife and slashed him across his middle. He didn't have a chance after that and I'm sure he bled to death. I heard his friend come over to where we were. He had been standing back before, but now he ran forward, whether to check on his friend or to attack me I'll never know.

'Don't touch me!' I screamed as I slashed blindly in his general direction. After that I ran. I ran and ran until I came here. So there you have it, I _am_ a murderer twice over."

Erik, slumped into his chair and held his head in his hands. He had hoped it had not been true, but his once again his damnable instincts had been correct. He sighed deeply,"No, not twice over. Not yet. One of your victims is still alive, just barely."


End file.
